


A Duet Under Sun

by im_the_king_of_the_ocean



Series: The Fragility of a Suncatcher [7]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons)
Genre: Adult Content, Consensual Sex, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Light Bondage, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 11:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_king_of_the_ocean/pseuds/im_the_king_of_the_ocean
Summary: During a sunlit morning, Morgana wakes next to someone who she may eventually realize she loves.





	A Duet Under Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This one is pretty much what happens when I decide I want to write something where Morgana thinks about and considers vulnerability, and then realized the best way to explore that would be in a smut scene, where the concept of being vulnerable with a person (or them being extremely vulnerable with oneself) is extremely present and in focus.
> 
> So, yeah, 50% smut scene, 50% character study.
> 
> Enjoy if you like this sort of thing. You know where to find the back button if you don't.

There is no beauty in sunlight.

It’s an old thought.Nearly an eternal one.

But, as Morgana gazes at the way the morning sun filters in and casts a dreamy halo down around her bed partner, she can’t help but wonder at its accuracy.Without sun, there would be no light.No golden hues to wash over the sleeping form of her partner and warm it to the touch.

Morgana wiggles closer and wraps an arm (her good arm) around her partner’s waist.She pulls her in close, so her back is against Morgana’s chest.The only thing between them; the thin silk of their nightclothes.Morgana marvels at the steady rhythm of her partner’s body rising and falling with each and every breath, like a song only _she_ gets to be close enough to feel.

She ignores the way her own body casts a shadow down upon her partner.It’s only natural.When something moves in front of the sunlight, a shadow forms.It’s the law of the world.Regardless of how she personally has come to feel about it.

Morgana slips a hand under the hem of her partner’s shirt and tickles her belly.She tries to think of all the delicious foods (grown under sun) that keep it well-fed, and _not_ all the ways knives could slash it open.

Her partner giggles as she wakes.She squirms against Morgana’s touch.Presses herself against Morgana in a way that makes Morgana’s heart flutter faster.Here is a person fearless.Unafraid of her.Of what she could potentially _do_.

Morgana lifts her hand away from her partner’s belly and gently brushes her partner’s long hair (set aflame by the sunlight so it blazes like a ruby) back behind her ear.She gazes down at her partner’s face.Her blue eyes, now open and shining brilliant blue as light dapples over them.The thin, long line of her nose.The pinkish-red of her lips, like a flower as it first begins to open in early spring.

Barbara is beautiful, in Morgana’s eyes.

And she will crumple, wither, and die without the sunlight to nurture her.

Unknowing of these considerations, Barbara blinks up at Morgana.No fear.No anger.No panic.Just an expression of calm as she takes things in.She quirks one eyebrow up in a silent inquiry.

Morgana leans down for a kiss.She relishes how eager Barbara’s lips are when her own meet them.How they let out a little gasp when Barbara needs air, but refuse to leave regardless.

“Someone’s certainly eager this morning,” Barbara murmurs when they do break apart.

Morgana doesn’t reply, but trails quick, little kisses up Barbara’s jaw.Before going to her ear, she pauses, strokes Barbara’s cheek with her thumb, considers, and leaves a lingering kiss there.She nuzzles into the crook of Barbara’s neck, inhaling the faded scent of her familiar, strawberry shampoo.

When one is the Queen of Darkness, one loses the ability to truly feel physical contact and all the pleasures that come with it.

To regain that ability is nothing short of a miracle.

At least, that’s how Morgana considers it.Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone.

Morgana straddles Barbara’s hips.

Barbara smirks up at her.

Morgana traces her fingers up over Barbara’s shoulders, down her arms, and to her wrists.She grips those tightly (but not _too_ tightly) and lifts them to herself, for closer examination.

Unlike her, Barbara has _two_ hands of long, nimble fingers.Nails carefully filed down.Soft to the touch.Callused, but not in the way of a warrior.Delicate, but never to be described as such, lest Barbara protest.

Morgana kisses one of Barbara’s palms, and then the other.She maneuvers both hands to be held by her own prosthetic one and reaches for a length of silk piled up on the night table with her other.She wraps the silk firmly around one of Barbara’s wrists, and then the other.Once Morgana’s secured both wrists, she ties them to the bedpost.

“How does that feel?”She asks when she’s done.

Barbara shifts her head to look up at her bindings.She rotates her wrists.“Good.I’m fine,” she gives her assessment to Morgana.Barbara turns her head to face her.“I’ll get sore after a while, so you’re going to owe me a massage.”

“Always.”Morgana cups Barbara’s face in both her hands.She smirks at her, and Barbara smirks back.There’s the slightest hint of a challenge, a _dare_ , in the doctor’s eyes.

Morgana pecks Barbara on the nose.A distraction so she can move her hands down, unnoticed, to undo the first two buttons of Barbara’s night shirt and slide inside.Morgana rests her thumbs against Barbara’s collarbones.She splays her other fingers out on Barbara’s upper chest, mimicking the curves of her shoulders meeting her neck.

Morgana strokes an index finger against where she can feel Barbara’s steady pulse.Such a vulnerable thing.Yet, Barbara gave her unfettered access to it without so much as a hesitation.

Morgana can’t quite describe the feeling that causes in her.It’s months yet before she even considers _trying_ for the first time.

But she does look up into Barbara’s eyes again.Within them is an unspoken statement, a confidence that’s rather intimidating in its certainty.

_You won’t hurt me.I know you won’t._

Morgana kisses the crook of Barbara’s neck, and then nips to leave a mark.A hickey, she’s learned it’s called.It’s an affectionate gesture, but also one that serves to reassure herself she’s not completely out of control.

Morgana undoes the rest of the buttons on Barbara’s night shirt.She brushes the cloth off her, revealing her body fully.Morgana stops to wonder at the way the sunlight plays down on Barbara.The way it illuminates the swells of her breasts, and yet casts a shadow in the gully between them.The way the light bounces off Barbara’s belly, yet how shadows still nestle in her belly button.

It’s strange, how opposites intermingle to create beauty.Morgana runs a curious finger down in the shadows and then up over Barbara’s sun-warmed flesh.She touches lightly, as if scared she’ll ruin the gift given to her.

This is trust— _faith—_ something she herself cannot yet give (hence the silk binding).To be fully open with another living being.To be truly _at their mercy._ To allow them to do whatever they want, with only the knowledge that they’ve given their word that they’ll please, not hurt.

It has puzzled Morgana to no end that Barbara gave such a thing to her so freely, and still gives it, and will give it.Again and again.

Sure, Barbara certainly gets _pleasure_ out of the deal.Morgana makes sure of that.After so many times, she’s long since learned all the things that Barbara likes (and keeps them carefully filed away in her memory).The ways to make the doctor squirm and groan.The ways to make her mewl and gasp as heat and passion blossom under her skin.

There is a certain type of begging that comes when someone wants _more_.More kisses.More kneading.More ministrations.It is the only type of begging Morgana currently delights in (and she only desires to hear it from one person and one person only).

But anyone who’s given the magnificent opportunity to learn Barbara (and her kinks) can do this.Arousal is a physical response to certain stimulus.As long as there is a someone who can provide that stimulus, it will be pleasurable for the one being stimulated.

Or, at least, that’s been a longstanding assumption Morgana has held.

She herself isn’t an integral, _necessary_ part of the process of love-making.Yet.She’s the one who’s here.Who’s _chosen_ to be here.

Barbara _wants_ Morgana here. _Wants_ her to be the one here.Despite who she is.Despite everything.

_It’s not about yesterday_ , the doctor once whispered. _It’s about tomorrow, and who you’ll be then._

Barbara has never gone so far as to touch Morgana, has never been given the permission (the _trust_ ) to do so.

Yet, Morgana has felt the soft squish of Barbara’s breasts beneath her fingertips.Has kissed the doctor’s stomach as it twitches with each of her laughs, and then moans.Has danced her touch lower and lower until she’s between the doctor’s thighs, sliding her pants off, and nudging her legs apart.Has caused Barbara to cry out, to twist her wrists against their bindings, and arch her back until that final, sweet moment of release.

Has held Barbara close to stroke and pet afterwards, as she comes down from orgasm.

It’s strange.The feeling that comes with all this.The way Morgana’s own heart beats because it knows it’s doing something the person it loves enjoys.

She wonders if Barbara wants to do the same for her.

Morgana hopes, one day, she will let her.


End file.
